I Die a Little More
by pixieweasley
Summary: The Black Widow isn't as cold as she'd have you believe, well she is except when it comes to him. Barton has a way of getting under her skin. It holds them, controls them and will open its jaws and devour.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

When the noise began to fade and the darkness fell, that's when she'd go to him.

He was familiar, silent.

It was comfortable.

Nothing should be this comfortable or this perfect.

Not for someone like her… and yet…

The battle for the world may have ended but the war was barely beginning.

"Nat. what are you doing?"

In turned to find him leaning against the doorpost of my bedroom, hating that he can sneak up on me, but preoccupation will do that to you. Well that and get you killed.

"Learning to ski Barton." yes that was my witty one liner. Except the thing is that Clint Barton tends to bring out the adolescent in me, that is the adolescent I should have had the chance to be.

Clint pauses to smirk, always in an ever so playful mood, "So I see. Fast learner. What with the being in your room and packing and not exactly skiing."

Nothing gets past he's keen observations! Note the sarcasm. In all honesty this could be one of the reasons we click, one of the many.

My non reply provides a tense silence.

Atmosphere change.

"So you were just planning to leave." I could hear the resignation in he's voice. Mostly I could hear the hurt.

"If I said that I was sorry I'd be lying. After…after everything, you and I being in the same space, well quite honestly it's not going to work." I said this knowing with every fibre of my being that it was a lie.

When it came to Barton and I, things would never be simple. What's playful banter one minute becomes a double edged sword the next.

Love is a silly, flimsy emotion. What we have is more. It controls, takes over, demands and then opens it jaws and swallows you whole.

"You can lie to yourself as much as you want Tasha but I know what makes you ache. And pretty soon this circle is going to have to come to an end."

There's so much that I could say, so much that I want to say and before I can process it he walks away.

I die just a little more.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Life is full of moments that define you. They tell you who you are, what you value and most importantly who you're striving to be.

It's really shitty when most of those moments come from the addition of red in your ledger. And other moments, well, the only way I manage to digest it, to look at and fully process it is from an entirely separate point of view.

The instant I laid eyes on Agent Barton a piece of me was captured and another threw herself off the ledge. Defining moment.

The details of this hit were much the same as any other. Individual with the potential to change it all, those with power wanted him gone and there I was. Yet there was something different this time. Every hit began with a particular feeling, a non-feeling if you will. This time emotions were all I could feel. I've never cared for the well-being of any hit, man, woman or priest. Then came Mr X or maybe it had nothing to do with him at all, but all to do with me. At age 24 my time in the game was coming to a close. How many people at that age had ever called 'assassination' their profession spanning more than half of their live?

The faces of those I'd hunt came back to me each night. The eyes never lie, and the moment they knew that death was coming? All you'll see is agony. For people to be lost, slights never forgiven and mourning for the person they'd never be.

I had been hired to assassinate a well-known politician, names I shall not mention for some are still very much with us, who shall be named Mr X for the purposes of this… whatever this is. My 'dear-diary' moment I suppose. I had been posing as the curator of an art gallery in Geneva.

Normally my modus operandi was to appear as the desirable female ever so willing to let 'this' man, aka my target, be the only one I'd give myself too, thankfully this was not the case.

The hit was to take place whilst a large banquet commenced and was to be quick and soundless.

The moments before you take the life of another are surreal. Your senses are heightened, your heart pounds, minute details become glaring pointers. My knife was poised at Mr X's back ready to take the shot. A glance that lasted a millisecond caught a pair of eyes boring into mine.

I knew this hit had been compromised.

More importantly I had been compromised.

In that fraction of a second, staring into those eyes was like looking into my own.

Stashing the knife back into my holder I made my way out of the blanket into the cover of night, ready to take out those blue eyes that had caught me out.

In the silence of night grew ominous and the chill in the air danced along my face, all of those exciting and menacing until it was broken by the sound of bemused laughter.

"Black Widow what an honour to finally meet you! I mean it's you!" those words brought nothing but a shiver down my spine, and for the sake of clarity those were good shivers.

I whipped around unsure of what to expect and was greeted with an arrow aimed at my head. Great meet-cute right?

For all my internal jokes this night had taken quite a turn, there haven't been many who could sneak up on me. None of which have lived to tell that tale, until tonight.

"You'll have to forgive me, I can't offer the same courtesy of knowing your name but I do promise to make it quick." One of my very best tries at trying to play the threatening seductress to a man who was going to attempt to kill me whilst also bringing out the blushing girl in me.

"As fun as a little one on one with the Widow sounds I'll have to pass. I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse." Said Clint.

"What makes you think I'd be amenable? After all you said it yourself I am the Black Widow." I could see this going no-where really fast. Out of the blue the archer lowers he's bow, and takes a step forward. I immediately fall into stance awaiting the inevitable when he says in a tone removed of all traces of its previous laughter "If you wanted to be here, you'd have killed me the instant I followed you."

Pause. He wasn't wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You know Agent Romanov; it's not that hard to say a simple 'hi'. Maybe a nod…or say yo!"

I deliberately turned my head to quirk an eyebrow at my new partner, hoping that he'd get the point. And in typical Clint Barton fashion he merely shrugged and barked out a laugh.

Now let it be known it took a while for Barton and I to be able to erm banter I suppose, maybe the reason was that he kept trying or mostly the fact that I wanted to be left alone. Either way he was closest I'd ever come to a friend.

The moment I had entered the hallowed halls of SHEILD I appeared to be the circus freak. Never have I been exposed to that many eyes on me. Sure I'd had men stare at me, there were always men staring at me, but this was different. In their eyes I saw anger, confusion and above all fear. It would seem my reputation had preceded me. I follow this Clint Barton down clinical corridors passing men in white coats, and agents walking in the opposite direction till we get to the Director.

"Well Agent Barton, as usual you have ignored a direct order and brought back a souvenir. What makes you think I'm not going to perform the kill order on the Widow right the hell now?" screamed Director Fury; the man certainly had some excellent pipes.

I watched Barton fight the urge to roll his eyes, "Well Sir, I'm pretty sure the instant you make a move indicative of any such action Miss Romanov is liable to rid you of both your weapons and possibly the other eye. So let's all take a breather here."

"If she kills a single agent, lab coat or lab rat it's on your head Barton. Widow, if you place a single hair out of line my orders will see its completion. Dismissed." barked Fury.

My head screamed at me to get out and yet all desire to do so was lost. There was a time that finding my way out of an inescapable prison like SHEILD would be all in a day's work…right now all I could see ahead was black.

I followed Barton down endless corridors; the rays of light coming through the window began to disappear as we began out descent into the darkness. Clearly this man knew me well.

This corridor was dark, narrow, smelled like detergent, it reminded me of Russia. At the end of the path Barton paused outside the last door and turned the knob, "Welcome to your humble abode."

I glanced inside and found a Spartan living situation, a bed, drawer, mirror and a tiny room containing facilities, "What? No balloons or welcome banner?"

"Thought I'd keep it simple, no need to scare you." Barton said; he seemed glad that I tried to make an effort.

"It's not me you're worried about scaring Barton." I knew what they all were thinking, I didn't blame them. I knew who I was. Correction I know who I am. I am the Black Widow.

"Barton. Why did you bring me here? Why save me?" These thoughts revolved had been the focus of my mind since that night.

Barton gazed at me for a long moment taking a deep breath, "Honestly? I can't say for sure. But what I do know, is that killing you wasn't the right thing to do." a moment devoid of a joke. From what I've began to notice this was a rare moment for Agent Barton.

In a singular breath I seemed to surprise the agent, and quite frankly myself, "You don't know the things I've done. The pain I've caused. I've destroyed so many lives."

Agent Barton stared at me, unsure of what to say. "You know Widow that night in Geneva I was set to kill you. No qualms, it was going to be simple. An arrow through the chest. Your reign ended. And then you saw me watching you. You stared back at me and it changed it all."

"What did you see?"

"Death. Someone who'd died a thousand times over. I couldn't do it." Barton paused and looked away.

Silence.

There it was again. A moment. Like any other except it comes and changes you. It was the beginning of us; Geneva had offered an introduction whilst tonight gave away secrets.

"It's Natasha."

Barton looked back at me; he's rugged face breaking into an easy grin "Well would you look at that! I've finally joined the select few!"

"You're the only one."

Please review. Let me know if the piece is being enjoyed or despised (hope it's not being despised!). Anything constructive is helpful!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It had been six months since Clint had been sent to kill me. In the months since I'd left my previous, for lack of a better word, occupation I'd become the target for many others. Every hit I'd ever performed and every mob boss I'd screwed over were waiting to get their hands on my blood.

Thankfully I was the target of another assassin, one with impeccable aim who tried every possible way to get me to smile. This usually meant a sparring session were he'd be wiping the mat.

Each session began as the sun rose and quite by accident. I couldn't sleep, what with the constant nightmares involving each of my victims killing me in a variety of distressing ways, not what dreams should be made of. So unable to sleep I plodded along to the training room determined to train till I passed out, it seemed Agent Barton had the same idea.

I paused at the edge of the training room watching Barton perform a series of complicated shots taken with a blunt arrow and quiver, the man was truly exceptional. I slowly turned away meaning to leave, "Natasha, you don't need to leave."

"I'm sorry Agent Barton I didn't mean to disturb you-"

"Disturb me? Please I could hear you a mile away! Has anyone every told you that you breathe louder than a freight train."

"And lived? No I can't say they have."

"Point taken! I know nothing about any loud inhalation of oxygen perpetrated by any sort of err arachnid. Better? Now that we've had our show of superiority how about a sparring session?" replied Agent Barton, with a goofy grin.

This man. His grin. Things are I am now becoming way too familiar with; without him knowing Agent Barton has begun to compromise me in ways I've barely begun to acknowledge, let alone understand.

So to deal with these new and enticing feelings, I did what any self preserving lady would do. I punched him.

"What the fuck? Really! We haven't even stepped into the ring!" yelled Barton whilst rubbing his jaw.

"Agent Barton when, in the field, have you ever been given a chance to 'step into the ring'. Here I thought you were SHEILD's finest! In our line of work, the world is our ring." I replied whilst circling my new target.

"Considering all we've been through, and what with you punching my in the face and talking smack, I think it's time you revert to something a little less formal than 'Agent Barton'." said Barton, gearing up for a fight.

Barton came at me, and in an attempt to gain the upper hand by way of brute strength, leading him to swift upper cut and back flip. I thought SHEILD agents were highly trained.

Following many more butt-to-floor moments, and a minor break out of sweat for me, Agent Barton called it quits with an ungainly collapse and groan.

"Ahh the sweet, sweet sound of victory!"

Agent Barton laid on the floor, eyes closed only to respond with, "You tricked me...each time...I'm tired...I have a headache...erm..." Eyeing my offered hand with mistrust, Barton relented and got to his feet.

"To be fair, I've been more tense than usual; I may have used that to my advantage." I said. To an extent I hoped to keep the only acquaintance I had at SHEILD.

"Are you kidding? That was the best work out I've had in years! Romanoff, you and I are going to go far! The best SHEILD has ever-OW! Its fine, I'm okay."

Agent Barton had a way with people, or maybe just with me. It all came back to that moment in Geneva, he knew me and I knew him. But as much as that connection existed I couldn't seem to ignore the ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Turning to Agent Barton, at 2 am, "We need vodka."

I sat in the common room with the faint glow of the full moon shining through the glass doors; Barton had gone to the kitchen to retrieve the alcohol, whilst I tried to figure out what the hell I was doing. The air stilled and I turned around to see Agent Barton holding a bottle and two glasses and staring at me, upon catching my eye he coughed and made his way to the sofa.

As much as I've played the seductress for too many years than I care to count, that moment had thrown me.

I reached for the bottle, broke the seal and took a large swig.

"Whoa, hold on there Tasha!"

I glanced at this man who looked so concerned and it hit me.

"Barton what do you know about me." I asked this knowing full well that SHEILD barely had enough information on me to cover a third of my life let alone prepare this agent for what he had tasked himself to do.

"Well you're the Black Widow. Trained in Soviet Russia, with other child soldiers." replied Barton, a look of confusion crossing his face as he took a sip of his drink.

"So you know nothing."

"I wouldn't call it 'nothing' but rather-"

"We were not child soldiers. We were soviet assassins. We fought each other to survive for another day."

"What do you mean?" asked Barton, his forehead creased as he tried to understand my words.

"It's exactly what you're thinking Barton. We were trained every minute of every day. Trained to fight for the mother-country. Trained to seduce men...seduce women. We were trained to kill each other. The moment you'd to start to slip you were beaten. Not by the guards but by the other children." These words began to spew from me, internally I felt my control slipping, yet on the outside I was calm and detached. Just as I was trained to be.

"Tasha you don't have to tell me this."

"You think I'd do something against my will? Please agent, you underestimate me. This is not a good trait. It'll get you killed. Just ask them."

"Ask who?"

"Everyone I've killed. They're all around."

I paused and glanced at Barton. His eyes looked lost, as if he'd seen or maybe heard too much, he waited as I swallowed another mouthful of vodka, wanting to know what happened next.

"Katya was my best friend. I had known her my entire life. Before the Red Room and even before the fire. The fondest memories of my childhood included her, as did the more scary ones. This day had been particularly hard for both of us, and whilst none of us captives coped with any of it, it had finally become our turn. The last two returning from the day's training were meant to fight each other. I guess it's the way the weeded out the weak..."

Sensing that I needed to tell this story, or maybe giving me the grace of a confession Barton said "Its okay Tasha, whenever you're ready."

I took a shuddering breath and continued.

"Katya and I were the last to return. We were immediately taken to the arena, a space used for punishment and for these dogfights. We knew we had to fight, if it was a good day Dreykov would end our fight off with a beating but we would live for another day. Instead it was the usual, brutal route. Katya came towards me fighting, when I didn't respond I was shocked by an electric prong, another tool to make us perform. I gave in and we fought. It was vicious and brutal, I remember Katya lying on the floor begging me to kill her. She promised that she had already forgiven me. I bent down to her my hands grasping either side of her face and as I kissed her forehead I broke her neck. I looked down at my hands covered in blood, grasping a chunk of her hair. I remember a high pitched whine or cry and then black."

Barton just stared at me. His eyes were filled with tears. Never had I met an assassin who shed a tear, let alone felt any emotion resembling empathy.

"I killed my best friend. We were 10 years old. You should have killed me Agent Barton. It would have been a good deed."

"My god, Tasha you were a baby! They made you do it! " Barton's voice was indignant, disgusted and filled with such sorrow.

I felt hot liquid spill down my cheeks as my vision blurred. Barton made to move next to me and I quickly turned away. No one has ever seen me cry and I'd like to at least keep that the same.

"I see her everywhere. How does it end? Will it ever stop... if you could just use one of your arrows? It would be a mercy! I know I don't deserve it, but I'll never be able to take back anything! Please Agent Barton...Clinton, please."

Barton had ignored my earlier brush off and placed his arms around my shoulders as I sobbed silently and begged for my death.

"Tasha we're never meant to make up for our sins. We just have to confront them. Head on." whispered Barton.

"No matter what I do, even if every act from now onwards amounts to good it will never erase the bad, it will never outweigh it." the tears had left my eyes, streaking and drying onto my cheeks as I began to calm down.

"No I don't think it will. Whenever or whatever comes your way, you're just going to have to keep trying. That's all we can do. Our ledgers may be red, but I'm hoping that by the time our end arrives they'll be some blue somewhere." Stated Barton as he reached to the table and handed me another glass of vodka.

As I reached to take the glass from him, our fingers met and there it was again. That feeling.

Trying to diffuse the sudden tension Barton replaced his expression with his usual grin and said, "Yo! You finally called me Clinton!"

I looked up at him and began to giggle quietly at first, followed by Clint's guffaw.

Like everything it all comes down to a single moment and a gut reaction. All I'm hoping is that my reaction won't give me an additional face to dream of. Tonight another part of me died.

Hey people! For those following I apologize for not posting sooner. My laptop died and was being repaired. Thank for R and R!


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